


the sound of the sky

by apostrophe (introductions)



Series: the cosmos and the soul [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ...or do they?, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Fictional Religion & Theology, Firsts, M/M, Secret Relationship, Unresolved Ending, they say goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductions/pseuds/apostrophe
Summary: This is the last moment they'll have, lying together like this. The last moment before Mark's life demands to be lived, and Donghyuk can no longer ignore his duty.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: the cosmos and the soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075802
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	the sound of the sky

**Author's Note:**

> yes i made a whole different pseud for mh week don't you DARE @ me 
> 
> also this was going to be one ENTIRE 10k fic for ONE day and then i realized that was insane and impossible so now i'm here to split it into 7 parts and spitball lore and worldbuild to my heart's content 
> 
> as you can tell i'm really excited for this one :)

The sky is blue on the day Donghyuck has to give up on the love of his life. 

The summers this far north are long and cool, and the curtains by the open balcony doors drift lazily, caught by an early-morning breeze. Outside, he can hear the sounds of the morning market, the kingdom stirring to life as the sun rises. A couple floors below him, he can hear some of the manor staff—maids pushing breakfast carts, valets and stewards, cooks coming in with fresh vegetables, barking orders. 

Next to him, Mark Lee still sleeps. His face is relaxed, unaware of how his house is already alive and bustling beneath him. Oh, how the other dukes and counts and lords would _cringe_ if they knew who son of their beloved Duchess Lee had fallen in love with. They’d be beside themselves with fury—something that makes Donghyuck feel like laughing and crying all at once. 

They don’t scare Donghyuck, however. _They’re_ not the ones he should fear if their secret gets out. 

Donghyuck leans over and kisses Mark’s shoulder blade, unable to help himself. His skin is sleep-warm and soft, and he stirs slightly under Donghyuck’s touch. 

“Wake up, Mark,” Donghyuck whispers quietly. “It’s time for me to go.” 

Mark makes a disgruntled noise and turns over, pulling Donghyuck into his arms before Donghyucak can react. “No,” he says. 

Donghyuck squirms against his chest half-heartedly. If he really wanted to, he could break free in a second—the only training Mark has is in showy sports, like fencing or swimming or hunting. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has been drilled in swordplay and shooting since he could walk. 

“Mark,” Donghyuck says again. His name is so precious, the most beloved word Donghyuck has ever carried. And this—this is the last time he’ll get to say it like this. “I _have_ to go. I’ve spent too long here already.” 

“I don’t care about the stupid Council,” Mark murmurs, kissing Donghyuck’s cheek, his jaw. “I don’t care about my mother, I don’t care about the punishment, I don’t care about the press. All I care about is _you._ ” 

Donghyuck’s heart is tearing in his chest. “And I care about you too. But you know what will happen if the Abbot catches us. _Especially_ after I take my vows.” 

“I wish I were emperor,” Mark says. “I would abolish the entire Solari order.” 

“Then who’d protect the country? Who’d appease the gods, and keep us out of war?” 

“I don’t know. We’d figure it out.” Mark shrugs, and Donghyuck envies the blazing look on his face, the expression of someone who is permitted to love. 

Donghyuck has always adored that about him, from the very first moment he met him. 

“Do you remember when you first kissed me?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark frowns, baffled. 

“Yes,” he says. “Why?” 

Donghyuck eases back against his chest and looks out through the cream-colored curtains. “The sky looked just like this.” 

* * *

The sky then had been as big and as blue, though the air had been cooler and the days had been shorter. And Donghyuck had cared much more about the order of things, the ways he’d been taught, and the duty he’d been trained to fulfill. 

The Solari were the holy protectors of the kingdom, warrior monks who communed with the gods to ensure continued peace for the kingdom and offer guidance to the crown. And while Donghyuck had spent time in private scorning their strict rules (no festivities, no dancing, no _fraternizing with the unavowed_ ) and silly customs (keep your hair short, keep your eyes down, and _keep your heart to yourself_ ) he’d never really thought about _breaking_ them. 

And then he’d met Mark. 

Well, if crashing headlong into someone could be called _meeting_ them, that is. 

Turns out, they’d both sort of been on the run—Donghyuck, from his dry history class in a stuffy classroom, and Mark from yet _another_ matchmaking dinner set up by his increasingly-desperate mother. 

It had taken a breathlessly short amount for them to become friends—and an even shorter amount of time after that to become _more._ Once-a-week meetups in the garden became rooftop rendezvous at night, became Saturday morning markets, became so many sunrises by lakes and in quiet alleyways that they all blend together into one long rosy memory. Mark had been surprised by the number of firsts Donghyuck still had yet to give: first bite of cake, first dance, first Golden Moon festival. First time touching a boy. First time making that boy blush. First time being almost kissed by that boy, falling out of a boat, and learning that said boy is a fantastic swimmer. And also a show-off. 

First time pulling himself to the rocky shore underneath the willows and looking into a boy’s eyes and finding the courage to say, “try to kiss me now.” 

And Mark had kissed him there, for the first time, under the light of the golden moon, when Donghyuck was supposed to be cloaked in silk and trying to speak to the gods, huddled in the massive, marble temple at the top of the hill with the rest of the trainees. 

Instead, Mark kissed him so soundly Donghyuck had no room to give a damn about _any_ god from _any_ kingdom. Not when there was a boy he was coming dangerously close to calling _my first love, my true love_ hovering over him and doing wonderful things with his mouth and hands. 

“I can’t believe you got me to break every single rule,” Donghyuck commented later, when they’re much less wet and lying out-of-breath in Mark’s huge canopied bed in his rather ostentatious manor. The Solari are precious and dear to their Empress, but Duchess Lee is _beloved._

(Several people always raise their eyebrows when the Empress sends bolts of fine cloth or chests of precious gems to Duchess Lee’s doorstep, but both are adored by their kingdom, so it doesn’t really matter.)

And similarly adored was Duchess Lee’s son, the one currently smiling at Donghyuck like everything was good and perfect, like nothing could ever break their chain of firsts. 

“I can’t believe you _let me_ ,” Mark countered, his cheeks dimpling. “I have a hard time believing anybody could _make_ you do anything.” 

Donghyuck thinks about his teachers and their lessons, their orders, as direct and unforgiving as the sun. “Nobody but the monks.” 

Mark sighed, deflating as he always did when talk turned to Donghyuck’s vows, the obligation set on him since birth. “Nobody but them. But let’s not think about them, okay?” 

Donghyuck turned onto his side, brushing some of Mark’s hair from his face. “Then what shall we think about instead?” 

“Us,” Mark said immediately, and Donghyuck’s heart swelled so much it threatened to burst. “And what we’re going to have for breakfast.” 

“Alright,” Donghyuck agreed. “Us, and breakfast. I can do that.” 

And Mark had kissed him again, just as sweet as the first time. 

* * *

But the truth of the matter is this: 

There is still one first Donghyuck has yet to give, a rule as cast-iron and sun-baked as time itself: 

_One shall never abandon thy vows, nor turn thy back on the Solari._

* * *

And the sky may be the same great, expansive blue it was on that first day, but there is no first-time sweetness left here—only the bitter kiss of endings, of many lasts happening all-too-soon. 

But the time has come, and the punishment of spending even another minute here is too colossal. Mark is _so_ loved, and not just by him—by each and every single employee in this house, by all the fisherwomen and the cloth merchants, the farmers with their sweet yams and sacks of pearly-white rice. By the disgruntled Council. By the Empress herself, and probably by the gods too, if Donghyuck’s being honest. 

What is one boy— _him_ —compared to all of that? What is the first-time love of one still-avowed warrior monk in the face of an entire kingdom? 

It will have to be less. It _must_ be less, or Mark will be exiled to the Nightless Wastes and Donghyuck will be beheaded by the only family he’s ever known, as much as he occasionally despises them. 

But the Solari are not a first Donghyuck can give. The vows are not something he can break. 

So he rises from Mark’s bed and picks up his shirt and pants, which are soon to be replaced by the finer threads of a vowed-in warrior monk. The thought makes his palms slick with both excitement and dread. 

“Will I see you again?” Mark asks quietly, the heartbreak so plain in his voice Donghyuck has to turn away. 

“I don’t know,” he replies, tracking down his socks and boots. “Maybe.” 

“I love you, you know,” Mark says, and Donghyuck stops, halfway to the balcony, to the trellis of climbing star jasmine. “I know I never said it, but it’s true.” There’s a rustling behind him, and Donghyuck tenses as Mark winds his arms around Donghyuck’s waist, his mouth brushing the back of Donghyuck’s neck. 

“Mark,” Donghyuck sighs, trying to turn, but Mark holds him still. 

“I know,” Mark says. “I know. But just—let me have this, okay? This last moment.” 

Donghyuck dips his head, fighting back tears that burn the corners of his eyes. The moment seems to stretch on for hours, but it’s still too little before Mark presses one last kiss to the nape of Donghyuck’s neck and steps back. 

“Be safe,” Mark says. “And may peace prevail.” 

Donghyuck is too wrecked to echo the sentiment back to him. Mark’s footsteps recede, and there’s the sound of the door opening and closing behind him. 

Donghyuck is alone, but he doesn’t have the strength to face the empty room, so he pushes through the curtains and scrambles down the trellis, hoping nobody recognizes him as he cuts through the market, back towards the gleaming Solari temple. Back towards his future, his life, Mark’s last kiss still burning on the back of his neck. 

**Author's Note:**

> man oh man i love fantasy
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/idoldimples)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/conclusions)


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